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Charles Baudelaire (trans. Michael Hamburger) [h/t Mikhail Iossel]
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“We clear the harbor and the wind catches her sails and my beautiful ship leans over ever so gracefully, and her elegant bow cuts cleanly into the increasing chop of the waves. I take a deep breath and my chest expands and my heart starts thumping so strongly I fear the others might see it beat through the cloth of my jacket. I face the wind and my lips peel back from my teeth in a grin of pure joy.”
― L.A. Meyer, Under the Jolly Roger: Being an Account of the Further Nautical Adventures of Jacky Faber
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minoracts · 2 years
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THE GARDEN OF THEOPHRASTUS for my son
When at noon the white fire of verses Flickering dances above the urns, Remember, my son. Remember the vanished Who planted their conversations like trees. The garden is dead, more heavy my breathing, Preserve the hour, here Theophrastus walked, With oak bark to feed the soil and enrich it, To bandage with fibre the wounded bole. An olive splits the brickwork grown brittle And still is a voice on the mote-laden heat. Their order was to fell and uproot it, Their light is fading, defenceless leaves.
MEETING for Michael Hamburger
Barn owl, daughter of snow, subject to the night wind,
yet taking root with her talons in the rotten scab of walls,
beak face with round eyes, heart-rigid mask of feathers that are a white fire touching neither time nor space,
coldly the night blows at the old homestead, in its yard pale folk, sledges, baggage, lamps covered with snow,
in the pots death, in the pitchers poison, the last will nailed to a post.
The hidden thing under the rocks' claws, the opening into night, terror of death thrust into flesh like stinging salt.
Let us go down in the language of angels to the broken bricks of Babel.
[THE ELDER TREE]
THE ELDER TREE opens its moons, all passes into silence, the flowing lights in the stream, the planetarium of Archimedes driven through water, astronomical signs that came from Babylon.
Son, little son Enkidu, you left your mother, the gazelle, your father, the wild donkey, to go with the whore to Uruk. The milk-bearing goats fled. The steppe withered.
Behind the city gate with its seven iron bolts you were instructed by Gilgamesh, who crosses the frontier between heaven and earth, to slash the ropes of death.
Darkly noon burned on the brickworks, darkly the gold lay in the king's room. Turn back, Enkidu. What did Gilgamesh give you? The gazelle's lovely head submerged. Dust beat your bones.
THE GRAVE OF ODYSSEUS
No one will find the grave of Odysseus, no stab of a spade the encrusted helmet in the haze of petrified bones.
Do not look for the cave where down below the earth a wafting soot, a mere shadow, damaged by pitch from torches, went to its dead companions, raising weaponless hands, splattered with blood of slaughtered sheep.
All is mine, said the dust, the sun's grave behind the desert, the reefs full of the sea's roar, unending noon that still warns the pirate's boy from Ithaca, the rudder jagged with salt, the maritime charts and lists of ancient Homer.
ROME
Replete summer, at the outermost edge of the sun already darkness begins. Laurels gone wild, behind them a hiding-place of thistles and stones that yields to no voice.
Transparency of the noon light, verses that recall nothing, a bright water touches the mouth.
Persephone
The unfathomable came, rose from the earth, flaring up in moonlight. She wore the old shard in her hair, her hip leaned on night.
No smoke of sacrifice, the universe entered the fragrance of the rose.
SCOTTISH SUMMER 'What seemed corporeal melted as breath into the wind' Shakespeare: Macbeth
Scottish summer, under the oaktree dry as a plait of hair sit the women of Cawdor, some of them hidden in the clouds' light, nettles, their blossom shed, in the sand. Down over the rocks trumpet blasts, a clatter whips up the sea swell.
Fog that engendered it, soon it will be winter, thin wood never at rest, snow flurries this way and that, finely dusting the wilderness.
Dried up and dusky they squat on tattered furs before evening s golden seam. When the moon shifts the clock hands on the tower they stare with dimmed eyes. Uninhabitable this grief that ebbs from the cliffs.
EASTERN RIVER
Do not look for the stones in water above the mud, the boat is gone. No longer with nets and baskets the river is dotted. The sun wick, the marsh marigolds flickered out in the rain.
Only the willow bears witness still, in its roots the secrets of tramps lie hidden, their paltry treasures, the rusty fishhook, the tin with no bottom in which to preserve long-forgotten talks.
On the boughs, empty nests of the penduline titmice, shoes light as birds. No one slips them over children's feet.
THE WATER OUSEL
It I could swoop down more brightly into the flowing dark
to catch myself a word,
like this water ousel through alder branches to pick her sustenance
from the stony riverbed.
Goldwashers, fishermen, put away your gear. The shy bird
wants to do its work in silence.
OPHELIA
Later, next morning, when the first white light glints, the wading of gumboots in shallow water, the thump of poles, an order barked out, they're hoisting the miry barbed wire net.
No kingdom, Ophelia, where a scream tunnels the water, a spell makes the bullet shatter against a willow leaf.
NOTHING to report
NOTHING to report. The unicorn went away and rests in the wood's memory,
in the poppy's valvules when the abbess gives sun and moon to the dead.
Autumn makes a clearing, loses its memory in the beech-tree's blood track.
What remains is no more than the black wire in the air that connects two voices.
In winter's white abbey a soundless wingbeat. In his name who — to the end of time.
--from Peter Huchel, The Garden of Theophrastus: Selected Poems, translated by Michael Hamburger. London: Anvil Press Poetry, 2004. [courtesy lyrikline.org and carcanet.co.uk]
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destinationtoast · 8 months
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My grandmother is Japanese and really likes to give gifts. Often those gifts are Japanese desserts or other food, but sometimes she just slips me cash, folded up inside a tiny, beautiful envelope. But she likes to pretend she's not giving me money, so when possible, she'll hide it somewhere that I will find later.
Today I spent the afternoon with her doing chores and tech support, and she clearly felt this warranted a significant gift in return (no matter that I enjoyed myself). But she forgot to slip something into my pocket or bag before I left, so instead she rushed outside as I was starting my car, making the old-school "roll down the window" gesture. Once I complied, she was forced to acknowledge she was handing me money, but she also tried to minimize the gesture.
The result was that she said, "Thank you, dear! I just wanted you to be able to... to buy yourself a hamburger," and then handed me a darling little envelope that turned out to contain $100. And all I could think was:
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martyncrucefix · 8 months
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Goethe's poetry - some new translations by John Greening
In this blog post, I am discussing John Greening’s new translations of a small selection (9 poems in all) from the works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. With the original German texts provided on facing pages, these translations are published as Nightwalker’s Song, by Arc Publications (2022). This review was originally commisioned and published by Acumen poetry magazine early in 2023. By the way,…
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garlictoastedbread · 3 months
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Have a Mike (im holding him)
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Enjoy fellow Mike lovers
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brokehorrorfan · 3 months
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Hamburger Helper meets Talk to Me with John Godfrey's Hamburger Help Me hydro-dipped 8.5" resin figures. They go on sale today, January 10, at 12pm EST via Bottleneck Gallery.
The "Movie Accurate" version is limited to 150 for $90, while the "Original Recipe" variant is limited to 75 for $90. They're expected to ship in the second quarter of the year.
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louisupdates · 8 months
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themichaelblackwell :: What a way to start this tour! Hamburg last night with @louist91 and the boys!
Can’t wait to be back in Hamburg in a few weeks! // 📷 by @oli_sound ::
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garadinervi · 1 year
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Sigmar Polke, Untitled (Punkte), (watercolor), 1963 [© The Estate of Sigmar Polke]; in Sigmar Polke. Works on Paper 1963-1974, Edited by Margit Rowell, and Joanne Greenspun, Texts by Margit Rowell, with essays by Michael Semff and Bice Curiger, Designed by COMA (Cornelia Blatter and Marcel Hermans), The Museum of Modern Art, New York, NY, 1999, p. 83 (pdf here) [Exhibitions: April 1 – June 16, 1999; Hamburger Kunsthalle, Hamburg, July 15 – October 17, 1999]
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0fallen0 · 1 year
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I put these guys all together so I didn't have to individually post everything but here's some sillies some of you wanted me to draw :>
Been trying to up my coloring game and I rlly like how I did everything color wise
@chickenstab / @creaturefeaster
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PotO Gifsets Masterpost Vol. I
A masterlist of gifsets I've made from various performances I've watched.
Ian Jon Bourg & Olivia Safe w. Kyle Gonyea (Hamburg, 2001)
Little Lotte: Part I
Little Lotte: Part II
The Mirror
The Phantom of the Opera
I Have Brought You...
Music of the Night: Part I
Music of the Night: Part II
Music of the Night: Part III
Music of the Night: Part IV
I Remember...
Act I Unmasking
Stranger Than You Dreamt It: Part I
Stranger Than You Dreamt It: Part II
The Rooftop: Part I
The Rooftop: Part II
All I Ask of You: Part I
All I Ask of You: Part II
All I Ask of You: Part III
All I Ask of You (Phantom's Reprise): Part I
All I Ask of You (Phantom's Reprise): Part II
Masquerade: Part I
Masquerade: Part II
Masquerade: Part III
Why So Silent?
Twisted Every Way: Part I
Twisted Every Way: Part II
Point of no Return
The Final Lair
Gary Mauer x Beth Southard (Dallas, 2006)
The First Lair
Point of no Return
Final Lair
Earl Carpenter & Rachel Barrell (West End, 2006)
The Phantom of the Opera
Music of the Night
Stranger Than You Dreamt It
Point of no Return
Final Lair Kiss
John Owen Jones & Rachel Barrell (West End, 2005)
Music of the Night
Point of No Return
Final Lair Kiss
John Owen Jones & Gina Beck (West End)
Music of the Night
Anthony Crivello & Kristie Holden (Las Vegas, 2008)
Phantom of the Opera
Music of the Night
Stranger Than You Dreamt It
Point of No Return: Part I
Point of No Return: Part II
The Final Lair: Part I
The Final Lair: Part II
Tomas Ambt Kofod & Sibylle Glosted (Copenhagen, March 2019)
Little Lotte (w. Christian Lund): Part I
Little Lotte: Part II
The Mirror: Part I
The Mirror: Part II
The Phantom of the Opera: Part I
The Phantom of the Opera: Part II
Music of the Night: Part I
Music of the Night: Part II
I Remember...: Part I
I Remember...: Part II
Stranger Than You Dreamt It: Part I
Stranger Than You Dreamt It: Part II
The Rooftop: Part I
The Rooftop: Part II
All I Ask of You: Part I
All I Ask of You: Part II
All I Ask of You: Part III
All I Ask of You: Part IV
Masquerade: Part I
Masquerade: Part II
Masquerade: Part III
Why So Silent?
Point of No Return: Part I
Point of No Return: Part II
Point of No Return: Part III
Point of No Return: Part IV
Point of No Return: Part V
Act II Unmasking
Final Lair: Part I
Final Lair: Part II
Final Lair: Part III
Final Lair: Part IV (The Kiss)
Final Lair: Part V
Final Lair: Part VI
Final Lair: Part VII
Michael Crawford & Dale Kristien (Broadway, 1988)
First Lair
Point of No Return
Michael Crawford & Dale Kristien (LA, 1988)
Music of the Night
Point of No Return
Thomas James O'Leary & Sandra Joseph (Broadway, 1996)
The Phantom of the Opera
Music of the Night
Point of No Return
Final Lair Kiss
Hugh Panaro & Samantha Hill (Broadway, 2011)
The Mirror
Phantom of the Opera
Music of the Night
Point of No Return
Final Lair Kiss
Brad Little & Lisa Vroman (US Tour)
Music of the Night
Point of No Return
Act II Unmasking
Final Lair Kiss
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darlinhutchence · 3 months
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wishy washy! x
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mikeywayarchive · 10 months
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Grosse Freiheit 36, Hamburg // Mar 14th 2011 // deadmizi on deviantart
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martyncrucefix · 9 months
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New review of my translation of Peter Huchel's 'These Numbered Days'
When Shearsman Books published my translations from the German of Peter Huchel’s 1972 collection These Numbered Days (Gezählte Tage), we were still in the early days of Covid restrictions and so launch events and so on were very difficult. I was pleased when the book was recognised in 2020 by winning the Schlegel-Tieck Prize for translation from German awarded by the Society of Authors. The…
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stateofsport211 · 1 month
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📸 ATP official website
Qualifier Michael Agwi, who became more known after his close loss to Dominic Thiem in the Irish Davis Cup tie against Austria, faced an out-of-form Cem Ilkel in the first round of the Hamburg Challenger. Although his first Challenger-level victory came in the first qualifying round against twelfth seed and former junior World No. 1 Filip Peliwo 6-0, 6-2, he battled alternate Harry Wendelken to secure his spot in the main draw, where his remarkably-acclaimed indoor game became tested.
However, the first set became a one-way traffic as Ilkel's forehand side was sought after, as well as overpowering him in most parts of the set. Succeeding Ilkel's forehand errors, Agwi's down-the-line finish caused Ilkel to be outhit from his forehand side, thus causing the former's early break to 1-0. He subsequently consolidated his position with a service game hold to 2-0, and scored a forehand winner to precede Ilkel's failed drop shot before doubling the break to 3-0, successfully going after Ilkel's cross-court side.
Somehow, Agwi found himself in control as after outhitting Ilkel's forehand side to equalize the point, he doubled the break to 4-0 a point after his backhand return ace. He then strengthened his lead with a 5-0 hold, but he had to face 2 of his set points being saved, including thanks to a rare pass by Ilkel to force the deuce. However, Agwi created another set point with an ace, converting it thanks to an unreturned serve to serve the first set bagel (6-0).
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dr-lizortecho · 1 year
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you know what would awesome, like truly perfect? A malex Princess Protection Program styled fic
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